The Trials & Tribulations of Harry J Potter
by Slashypotterness
Summary: ((Eventually Drarry))Trying to find yourself in adolescence is never easy, especially when you have the whole world judging you as you do so. In this darker re-telling of GOF, Harry is not only facing dragons and mermaids, but inner conflicts that include; struggling with his sexuality, trying to figure out his own self worth and navigating through his relationship with Sirius.
1. The Nightmare

**Authors Note: So I finally found the time to take on a full-length fanfic and I'm actually really excited about it. I've always loved Drarry fics set in Hogwarts Era but the Golden Age of these fics seemed to have ended once the last book was released. So late the party, I'm taking my stab at a Howarts Era Draco/Harry fic and I hope there are still enough people out there to enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any recognizable characters are the sole property of JK Rowling, scholastics and Warner Brothers. I claim no right to them nor make any profit off this work.**

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**Chapter 1**

**The Nightmare**

"_Out of the way Wormtail, let me properly greet our guest," a hooded man hissed._

_The one known as Wormtail quickly moved out of the other man's way before the hiss of "Avada Kedavra," could be heard and jet of green light left the man's wand. _

_The "guest's" eyes widened for half of a second before the beam hit him square in the chest and he fell down to the ground, dead. _

Harry jolted up from his bed as he desperately tried to bring air to his lungs. It was only after getting a good look at his surroundings that he was able to clam down a bit, relieved that whatever he'd seen was nothing but a vivid dream. _Though must dreams don't leave the dreamer in pain_, he thought as he brought a shaky hand up to his scar. He couldn't remember a time his scar hurt that much other than first year when Professor Quirrell was housing Lord Voldemort on his back.

Harry groaned as he turned on the lamp beside his bed and reached for his glasses. After a few failed attempts, Harry's thin fingers wrapped around the rim of his spectacles before he clumsily placed them on his face. Still feeling tired and weak, he struggled to pull himself off the flimsy mattress and walk over to the mirror hanging from his dresser. His eyes immediately focused in on his scar. It didn't look red or swollen, which he supposed was a good sign, though it didn't explain why his head felt like someone had slapped him with a hot iron.

_The stupid dream didn't even make sense_, thought Harry, as he tried to recall exactly what happened. He knew one of the men had been Wormtail and the other had obviously been Voldemort, but he was sure he'd never seen the man who'd been killed or the person next to Voldemort before. Why would his dreams contain people he didn't know and why had it shaken him up so much?

He looked over to Hedwig, who was resting peacefully on her perch. Perhaps he should write a letter to Dumbledore. His other alternative would be to owl Hermione but he doubted an answer to his problem would exist in even her impressive library. Who was to say Dumbledore would even have an answer? And if he did, who was to say he would give it to him? While Harry loved and respected the man, he had to admit he had a way of not always telling the truth. Then again, it wasn't like he had many other options and the worst Dumbledore could say was that he didn't know. But what should he write?

_Dear Professor Dumbledore sir,_

_ Sorry to bother you but I had a bad dream and now my scar hurts. _

_ Yours Truly,_

_ Harry J. Potter_

Oh yeah, he'd just get on sending that straight away, right after he asked Snape for hair care tips. There was always Ron. While the redhead wouldn't have an answer, his father might. But of course at the Burrow you can't ask one person a question without the whole family hearing it. Ron would ask his father, Molly would over hear; become hysterical, probably contact Dumbledore and…no, he didn't need to owl Ron on this matter either.

Merlin, he had run out of people. Wait! No, there was still one other person: Sirius Black, his godfather. Sure, he had only met the man two months ago. Yea, he had only spent a few hours with him before he'd had to flee, but he was his godfather and he said he wanted Harry to live with him, that meant something right? Sirius had also written to him every day that summer, just like one of those doting mothers at Hogwarts did for their kids. Surely that would mean he had the right to write him, right? Of course it did, it was stupid to think otherwise. Pushing his doubts to the side, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and quill from underneath his faulty floorboard.

_ Dear Sirius, _

_Thanks for your last letter. Things at the Dursleys' are usual, although Dudley's been a little bit more annoyed due to his so-called diet. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have been giving me a wide berth, afraid I'll call on you to turn them into toads or something. I may not have found the need to inform them of your innocence…whoops._

_The only thing wrong, and it's only slightly wrong, is that my scar was hurting this morning. It usually only happens when Voldemort's near, but that's impossible, right? Do you know anything about cursed scars by any chance? _

_Talk to you soon. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._

_-Harry_

Harry looked over the letter, once again questioning whether or not he should send it. Despite Sirius saying he wanted to be involved in Harry's life, he didn't actually know him. Really he was just his father's friend and Harry had no idea if he was even anything like his father. What if Sirius got to know him and didn't like him, then what? Well, he guessed he'd be in the same position he had two months ago. He had gone nearly thirteen years without a father figure, he wouldn't be any worse off for it.

_Grr, he was over thinking this whole thing!_ It was just a letter and there was no reason not to send it. Besides, if one letter was going to make Sirius give up on him then he didn't want him in his life anyway, right? _Just stop thinking Harry_, he yelled to himself as he folded up the parchment and walked it over to Hedwig.

"Send this to Sirius girl," he said, handing her the letter.

Harry gave one more quick glance at his scar before grabbing out some clothing for the day so he could hurry up and go down for breakfast.

By the time Harry made it down stairs his uncle and cousin were already seated around the table while his aunt stood at the counter cutting up a piece of grapefruit. Harry bit back a frown when his aunt made her way over to Dudley, placing a small piece of fruit in front of him.

"There you go Dudley, darling," she cooed, kissing him on the cheek.

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. He could only be thankful that his aunt was too engrossed with her son and his uncle was too into his paper to notice, or else he would have found himself without breakfast. Not that a cup of water and half of grapefruit, that was sure to be smaller than Dudley's, was much of a breakfast anyway.

"Here," said Harry's aunt, throwing down a plate in front of him.

"Thank you," said Harry, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

Harry started eating the meager ration of food as quickly as he could before Dudley, who was eyeing his grapefruit with piggy eyes, could have a chance to steal it. There would be no way he would finish all his chores that day if he did not have at least some sort of fuel in him.

The doorbell rang and Harry flinched, ever the easily startled one. Uncle Vernon, with some amusing difficulty, heaved himself out of his chair and headed down the hall, leaving his pig of a son to steal his grapefruit.

Harry had just finished the rest of his grapefruit when his uncle returned to the kitchen looking absolutely livid. A feeling of foreboding instantly came over him, knowing that the angry vibes his uncle was giving off could only be meant for one person.

"You," He barked at Harry. "Living room. Now."

_Oh Merlin, what have I supposedly done this time_, thought Harry as he got up and followed Uncle Vernon into the next room, flinching when the man slammed the door behind them.

"So," Uncle Vernon hissed, getting spittle on Harry's face.

"So what?" Harry replied before he could think better of the sassy response.

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy!" Uncle Vernon roared, coming dangerously close to Harry.

"Sorry sir," Harry quickly said, bowing his head down.

"So," his uncle began again. "This just arrived." Harry looked up in confusion. "A letter," his uncle continued, "about you. From them."

"About me?" Harry questioned in a small voice. No one he knew used the postman to send letters.

Uncle Vernon fixed Harry with a glare before he began reading the letter aloud in a gruff annoyed voice:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

We have never been introduced but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron.

As Harry might have also mentioned, the final for the Quidditch World Cup happens this Monday night, and my husband has obtained prime seats through his connections at work. It would mean so much to us if Harry could attend, and he could, of course, spend the remaining days of summer with us and we'd safely see him off to school.

If Harry could send us your answer through his means that would be best. You see, the Muggle postman has never delivered mail to our house and I don't know if he would be able to find it.

Hoping to see Harry soon.

Yours Sincerely,

Molly Weasley.

P.S. I do hope we've put enough stamps on.

Uncle Vernon threw the letter down as he finished reading and pulled out another piece of paper.

"Would you just look at this," he snarled, motioning to an envelope with far too many stamps on it.

"Well I guess she put enough on then," Harry said, receiving himself a smack upside the head for his efforts.

"The postman noticed. That's why he came to the door, thought it was funny he did," Vernon yelled, reaching out his hand to get another swipe of Harry.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, backing away before the man could get another swing in. "Can I…can I go?"

"And why should I let you go to this….this rubbish?" his uncle asked.

"Because…" Harry began, the wheels in his head turning. He knew Uncle Vernon would love the chance to get rid of him two weeks early, but at the same time he would hate the chance to do anything that would allow Harry to be happy. "Because Uncle Vernon, if I don't, and my godfather finds out, he might think I am not having enough fun and come pay a visit. He knows how much I like the sport, you see?"

That had been the magic word, Uncle Vernon paled and quickly waved his hands around furiously.

"Well then go! Just go then! I will not have any ruddy murderer in my house!" he yelled nervously. "Go….go contact this Molly lady and tell them to pick you up. I have better things to do than to drive you around."

"Yes sir," Harry said, forcing a smile back as he rushed upstairs to Hedwig. He was going to the Quidditch World Cup, his scar had stopped hurting, and he was getting away from the Dursleys early. Life wasn't so bad.

End Note: Thank you for reading the first chapter, the next one should be up soon. Also, please like review and check out my facebook page (listed on my profile) I do lost of request fics for my most loyal reviews.


	2. The Malfoys

**Authors note:** I've debated with myself whether to keep the story in Harry's perspective like Rowling does or to add some chapters from Draco's POV, so consider this chapter a test run so to speak. Please let me know if you want more of Draco's prospective in the future or if you are more interested in reading the story through Harry's eyes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and any recognizable characters are the sole property of JK Rowling, scholastics and Warner Brothers. I claim no right to them nor make any profit off this work.

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**Chapter 2: Burning**

"Sit up straight," the aristocratic voice of Lucius Malfoy demanded as his walking stick swung down just inches away from his son's hand.

Draco cringed before moving quickly to adjust his poor posture, but in his haste, he failed to notice the goblet resting by his elbow. With a loud clunk, the metallic cup rolled off the table splattering its liquid contents on the silky white tablecloth and porcelain floor. Narcissa made a slight clicking noise with her tongue, but it was Lucius who looked the most annoyed as he watched his son edge his chair away from the table in an attempt to remain dry.

"Cease!" the Malfoy patriarch bellowed, flicking his wand to vanish the mess his son had made.

"Sorry, Father," said Draco, bowing his head.

"You are fourteen years old," said Lucius. " You need to stop acting like a silly child and-"

"Father," began Draco, lifting his head slightly. "I just-"

"Do not interrupt me!" yelled Lucius.

Draco's head snapped back down, and no further words left his mouth. He didn't understand what had come over his father, he only knew the man was on a particularly short fuse and had been on one since the beginning of the summer. Sure, he supposed his father had always been the disciplinary sort, for Draco's own good of course. It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to raise their kids to be soft like the Weasleys and forget their pureblood values. Even with his father's strict nature, Draco never remembered him being particularly harsh until a few months ago. Normally, when Draco found himself stepping out of line a stern lecture and the loss of privileges was his father's punishment of choice, and while his father was quick to hand out consequences he was equally quick to offer praise for a job well done. Now though it seemed that everything Draco did was wrong, and instead of a well-mannered lecture he found himself being yelled at or becoming the victim of his father's cane. He was waiting for the day that his father's cane didn't just gaze the back of his hand or shoulder but actually came down on him.

"Dear," came the much softer voice of his mother as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "Perhaps you should go finish your homework, I'm sure you'll enjoy the World Cup much better if you know you don't have to come home and do homework."

"I've finished a few weeks ago mother," said Draco.

"Of course you did," said Narcissa fondly. "I should know that you always get your work done ahead of time, just like you were taught."

Lucius suddenly rose from the table, causing Narcissa and Draco to look up at him expectantly.

"I have to retrieve something from Severus," announced Lucius. "Since you are done with your assignment, you might as well come along." Draco's hesitation didn't go unnoticed to Lucius nor did the way he looked over to his mother as if asking for some kind of reassurance. "I assure you, I have not acquired fangs over the last twenty four hours, and I've been told I don't bite very hard." A horrified expression crossed Draco's face. "That was a joke, son."

Draco blinked a few times before the corners of his lips slowly began to lift upwards. Narcissa giggled a bit, brushing some hair out of her son's face.

"Have fun at your godfather's house," said Narcissa. "But bring a jumper, it looks like rain."

"Yes mother," said Draco before his eyes turned towards his father. "May I bring my potion assignment as well, so that professor Snape might look over it?"

Lucius nodded his approval and motioned the boy away with his hand. He frowned, but did not comment as the boy scurried up the stairs like some sort of rodent. He really wished his son would conduct himself with far more grace. At Draco's age, Lucius would never have dared to exit a room in such a hasty, childish manner. Of course, considering who his parents were, that could have been seen as little more than an act of self-preservation. Still, it would certainly not hurt for Draco to acquire a bit more manners.

Narcissa cleared her throat, pulling Lucius away from his contemplation.

"Yes?" questioned Lucius.

Narcissa stood up from her spot at the table before placing her hands on Lucius's shoulders.

"You know darling," began Narcissa as she began messaging her husband's back. "You are fairly good at Potions." She paused for a brief moment to give Lucius a chance to respond, but all she received was a curt nod. "It's just a shame I think," she continued, "that our son doesn't ask his father to look over his homework." She once again paused, hoping for some kind of response from her husband, but after a few seconds it became clear that she wasn't going to get one. "Lucius!"

"Yes dear?" drawled Lucius, turning around to face Narcissa, whose face had turned a rather lovely shade of red. "I do not see what the problem is."

"You don't see a problem?" questioned Narcissa in a drawling tone that almost put Lucius's drawl to shame.

"None at all," said Lucius. "I dare say, we should be more concerned if our son was not smart enough to ascertain the practically of asking his godfather, the professor who assigned the homework to begin with, rather than I."

"I'm not sure there isn't more to it," pressed Narcissa, before turning his face away from Lucius. "I tire of this conversation, I think I shall retire to the gardens. Besides, if it doesn't bother you that our son favors his godfather then why I should it bother me."

Lucius sipped his tea as he quietly observed Severus reading over his son's assignments. It was the first summer that Draco had been entrusted to handle his assignments on his own; therefore, Lucius had no idea what the particular assignment looked like. He had faith though that his son's skills in Potions outmatched most. His faith was not ill placed it seemed if the smile of approval on Severus's face was anything to go by.

"I take it he did well," said Lucius, glancing over to his son.

Severus nodded before handing the assignment back to Draco.

"He has always excelled in my class, and not just because of my tendency to favor him," said Severus, offering the younger Malfoy a small smile.

Draco's face light up as if he was a cat that had just been given a huge bowl of cream.

"Thank you sir," said Draco, neatly placing the assignment back in his bag before pulling out another folder. "I had some difficulties with my Charms, do you think you could look over it and show me where I can make some improvements?"

"I could," said Severus, reaching out his hand.

"You might have asked me," hissed Lucius, noting how his son scooted away from him and closer to Severus. "Oh but by all means," yelled Lucius, slamming his fist on the table, ask your bloody godfather, as if I care."

He couldn't blame Draco for flinching away just then, it was certainly a rare occurrence for him to witness his father cursing or showing any signs of not being in control. He was less than pleased though, to be forced to watch his child look up at his best friend as if begging for protection from the only other person in the room.

"If you are having problems in a subject then you should be assisted by an expert," said Lucius in a much calmer voice. "While Severus is certainly the top of his field in Potions, he is not a Charms master. I only wish for you to have the absolute best."

Severus cleared his throat, cutting in to the tense father son moment.

"Draco," said Severus curtly. "I have a few things simmering in my lab. Go check on them for me."

Draco glanced at his father briefly before slowly nodding his head.

"Yes sir," he said, standing up and heading towards the basement where his godfather's lab was.

"If you have something to say, then say it," said Lucius, not bothering to wait for Severus to address him.

"What's wrong?" asked Severus flatly.

"Not a thing," drawled Lucius. "Should there be something wrong."

"Let's not play games, Lucius," drawled Severus. "I am not one of your politician associates, you can't lie to me."

"Well then, if you can see through me like you think you can, you already knew the answer to your previous question. Why ask?" retorted Lucius.

"Draco worships the ground you walk on," said Severus. "You should hardly feel a need to envy his Potion's Professor."

"You are right," hissed Lucius. "Draco does worship the ground I walk on, as he should. I'm his father, I and I alone have his best interest at heart."

"I dare not suggest anything else," said Severus. "But yet, you seem a bit more cross with him than unusual, perhaps I could inquire as to why?"

"Only if I may ask a question first," said Lucius.

"Very well," said Snape.

Lucius grabbed Severus's arm, pulling up the sleeve before the Potion's Master could protest.

"Has it been burning," asked Lucius.

"So this is what has you so cross?" drawled Severus, moving his arm away from Lucius.

"Has. It. Been. Burning?" asked Lucius again, punctuating each word as he spoke.

**End Note: Please review and like my FB page for information about updates and the likes. Also, check out my profile for information about requesting fics/drabbles ect. The next chapter should be out soon.**


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